


Sugar, Spies, and Everything Nice

by trash_trio



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Assassins & Hitmen, Begging, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/F, Kissing, Lesbian Sex, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Scissoring, Seduction, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teasing, Wall Sex, sex on camera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_trio/pseuds/trash_trio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ON HIATUS]</p><p>You are a spy working for an activist group in Russia, sent to collect files from a corrupt Russian ambassador named Zharkov. Natasha is sent from SHIELD to stop you, only to find that she's getting more than she bargained for with you. Incredible sexual tension and smut follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Break-In

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! There is no smut in this chapter really at all, but it sets up the story. I'll update the next chapter ASAP and you can have some nice lesbian interaction.

You dropped onto the balcony of the empty hotel suite quickly and quietly, feeling the warm summer breeze against your skin. The night was dark and starless, and though the hotel was full of sparkling ornamental lights and rich socialites in bright gowns and jewelry, the balcony was dark, the noise and light from below seeming far off in the distance.

You checked your watch, looking at your reflection quizzically in the reflective material. Even in the thick dark material of your spy clothing, you had to admit that you looked hot, still in smoky makeup from sneaking into the gala that was in full swing below. Almost enough to make someone forgive you if you got caught stealing the Russian ambassadors files.

The watch read 9:00 pm. The security guards would be changing any minute now and the security camera would be powered down to have the battery changed. You would have less than five minutes to get in and out of the room. Quickly, you readied your throwing knives in your hand and pulled out a lock pick from your belt. 

You checked your watch again. 9:02 pm. You had a minute left to wait. The Resistance would be thrilled when they got the files from you. The ambassador, Mr. Zharkov, had been taking bribes for months from the right-wing statist party in exchange for illegal and untaxed oil extraction. He was one of the major obstacles for the Resistance's commitment to income equality and sustainable development of the country.

9:03 pm. It was time for action. Moving swiftly, albeit carefully (it was a long way down to the ground, and a grappling hook wasn't necessarily a safe bet for breaking a fall), you inserted the lock pick into the door. One, two, three jiggles and a swipe of the stolen key code that you had gotten off the ambassador's whore, and the door clicked open.

You glanced at the security camera warily, gripping the knife as you stepped into the room with your head down. It was always better to enter head down in case the camera was still powering down. The glance revealed a dark lense and lowered angle. You smiled. This was like taking candy from a baby.

The room was dark, but with the large windows on the western side of the room. Distant lights from the city filtered into the room, lighting it just enough for you to take in the layout and furnishings in the room. The room is too lavish for its own good, a classic example of Russian corruption and embezzlement. It stretched across the entire floor of the hotel, complete with a vibrating water bed and flatscreen television taller than you are. An automatic fireplace in the corner lapped with dim blue flames, a champagne bucket next to it with bottles costing probably more than what you make in a year.

Searching the room with your eyes, you spotted Zharkov's computer on a richly carved mahogany desk. You bit your lip nervously. Zharkov's politics may have been stupid, but he was not, despite his whoring and thinly disguised alcoholism. It would be uncharacteristic for him to leave his computer alone in his room out in the open. A room this luxurious was bound to have a non-magnetized safe for electronics. And Zharkov was nothing if not cautious.

Turning in a slow circle in the room, you scanned the room for anything out of place. Nothing was remotely out of the ordinary in the room, the room barely looking touched besides Zharkov's luggage bags sprawled out across the bed and the expensive bottle of whiskey from the built-in bar in the room half-empty on his bedside table.

You checked your watch again quickly. 9:05 pm. You needed to be out of the room in three minutes. You quickly crossed the room, padding silently across the floor. The room was silent but for the sound of the gala below in the hotel ballroom. Some duchess's engagement party coupled with Zharkov's party-boy nature was making one hell of party down there. It was almost loud enough that you didn't hear another person drop from the ceiling into the room behind you.


	2. Natasha Enters the Melee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, there was way more plot than there was supposed to be in here. Sorry. I hope you like spy plot AU things, because that's what this is now.

You spun around, and simultaneously dropped to the floor as the person, who you now recognized as a woman, dropped cat-like onto the floor. It turned out to be a wise move to drop down to the floor, as the mystery woman shot a handgun in your direction. _Fuck. This was not expected._ The shot hit the wall above the mahogany desk.

"Zharkov will be coming any minute now." The woman said fluently in Russian, advancing towards you with the weapon pointed at your head. "For your sake as well as mine, leave without the files."

"I cannot do that," you replied in Russian, though you spoke more slowly. Russian was still a second language to you. The woman seemed to recognize this and switched flawlessly to English.

"You take the files, I must take your life," the woman said. Her voice was nice, smoky and sweet at the same time, but with a bite in it, as if she could kill at any time with just her mouth. 

"You sound reluctant," you replied. "What is your hesitation?" The woman shifted on her feet and paused, but kept her weapon trained on you. 

"Your resistance cause is... noble to say the least. And you are a good spy."

"You know about me?" You asked. You felt a blush creeping across your face. Though you could not clearly make out the woman's features in the room, the thought that a shapely, smoky-voiced woman was checking up on you sent shivers down your spine.

"Yes." The woman replied. "But I must get back to my original point. You cannot take those files."

"Why?" You said, shifting slowly on the floor to a sitting position. You held your hands out, palms forward to show surrender. The woman let you shift warily.

"Because they must be destroyed." The woman stepped forward, coming into the extremely dim light of the city coming through the window. 

You could see her features then, and your blush grew even more across your face. The woman, if you have not acknowledged your sexuality years ago, would have been the kind to make you question yours. 

She was tall and slender, but strong and muscled in a way you could tell even under the thick black material that her skin was toned. She had full lips and smooth, pale skin, with shapely eyebrows and a button nose. Her eyes glinted a stormy green-grey color as she looked down at you. Her hair fell in shiny, dark red curls down her shoulders.

“If they are destroyed, then the Resistance movement will not have any evidence to show the people of Russia that Zharkov is corrupt.” You bit your lip and glanced at the security cameras and then down at your watch. The cameras would be coming on in less than two minutes, and you had a feeling that this woman did not work for Zharkov. You could both be apprehended if you did not get out in time.

“If you get that evidence, you will cause riots. People will want answers as to why this happened for so long. They will want a list of officials who were affiliated with Zharkov.”

“I fail to see how this is a bad thing,” you replied, glancing at your watch again. “Corruption must be exposed for the government to function.”

“Those files hold more than just evidence of corruption,” the woman replied. “They have passwords to official’s computers and files around the world. They have locations of terrorist hideouts. They have weapons codes, some nuclear. Those documents must be destroyed. As few people can see those files as possible.”

“And what will happen to Zharkov?” you asked angrily. “He’ll just be let off the hook and go on to be the same disgusting man he has always been?!”

The woman smiled then, lowering her weapon but remaining in a fighting stance. “Not exactly,” she said. “You see, Zharkov is set to give those files away tomorrow to Abd al-Hara tomorrow.” 

“Abd al-Hara?” you asked.

“He’s a leader of a terrorist branch in northern Egypt and Morocco. And if you take those files instead of destroying them, you’ll be directly responsible for the spread of damaging information.” The woman paused, watching your reaction to her words. You struggled to keep your expression impassive.

 “How do I know whether or not to trust you?” You said, frowning. If what this woman said was true, than you could not take the files. But if she tricked you… You could hardly take that risk. Though the Resistance was a small group on the inside of the government, it was a strong group. You could not afford to mess up this mission if you wanted to stay alive and well. And yet…

 And yet there had been a nagging doubt in you about this entire plan. You, one of the more inexperienced spies (okay, you were pretty experienced, but hardly the most experienced), was sent to do supposedly one of the most important missions in the history of the Resistance movement. And while you had plenty of evidence pointing to Zharkov's undoubtedly evil nature, your organization had been elusive and rather shady about specific questions of implementing another mainstream political party promoting green energy and income equality. It was enough to leave you with questions.

"How do you know whether to trust me?" The woman seemed amused. "You don't. But I can tell you don't trust your organization either. Otherwise we would not be talking."

"I don't even know your name..." you muttered under your breath. The woman gave you a small but sincere smile.

"I'm Natasha," she said.

"How do you know all of this information about Zharkov's files?" you asked. "How do you know about Abd al-Hara?"

"I work for an organization that gives me such information about missions. My employer happens to trust me."

"Who do you work for?" you asked. Natasha smiled.

"You might find out at the end of our encounter if you are good," she said.

"You never answered my question about what will happen to Zharkov," you said.

"Zharkov is set to give those files away tomorrow to a known and dangerous terrorist. If he fails to deliver, al-Hara will deliver punishment himself. The files will never come to light, but... well, it would be understandable that an elite member of international government's early death would be investigated. Abd al-Hara's organization will be internationally condemned, and Zharkov will be found out as a supporter of terrorism. All without having to leak the files."

"That's genius," you said quietly. 

"Will you let me delete the files then?" Natasha asked. "I'd hate to kill you."

"I want... I want to see the files. Not read them necessarily, but just... I want to make sure what you say is true."

Natasha nodded, a relaxed from her fight stance to allow you to stand, palms up in a surrendered stance. The two of you moved to the computer and opened it. You both reached for the keypad at the same time, and your fingers brushed. You blushed furiously and turned your head away. This was ridiculous. You were a motherfucking spy, the kind of woman that people made Mission Impossible movies about. You knew four languages and six kinds of combat fighting. Seeing a hot woman was no excuse to let go and fall into some weird schoolgirl act.

Trying your best to ignore your feelings about Natasha, you typed quickly into the laptop. The computer opened to the desktop. Natasha made a surprised noise behind you.

"What?" you said, irritated.

"I'm surprised that your organization knew the password," she said. "Considering they didn't know about al-Hara." You shook your head and open the file. 

Natasha pushed you aside and scrolled through quickly, scanning the document and allowing you to look at the pertinent pieces, although she scrolled past the weapons codes quickly, giving you no chance to see them. You felt a sickening feeling in your gut as you looked over the document. It did seem to have what Natasha said it did. It had weapons codes (though you could not read them), and it had passcodes to government computers. Natasha was right. The files had to be deleted.

"Will you let me delete them or shall we fight?" said Natasha finally, a glint in her eye and a hand on her gun. 

"You know, I'm fine with you deleting them. I can even go wait in the car if you want," you joked weakly. Natasha giggled before covering her mouth.

"Sorry, I'm not supposed to do that," Natasha said. 

"You sound nice when you laugh," you said. Natasha typed a code into the computer. The file disappeared from the drive. She hit the power button on the computer and flipped it over, taking a vial of liquid from her belt and pouring it onto the bottom of the computer. It made a sizzling noise as it hit the plastic and metal.

"Acid," she said in explanation. "Prevents hackers from getting back into it."

You glanced at your watch. _Shit._ You had less than a minute to get out of the room. Less than thirty seconds actually. 

The two of you backed slowly away from the computer.  _FUCK._

The light had come back on in the camera, and it was glowing red. Someone had just started recording. Granted, they had not seen neither you or Natasha's faces, nor had they seen you tamper with the computer, but you were trapped in the room. You certainly could not exit from the balcony without raising security alarms.

"Natasha..." you say slowly and quietly. You switch to Russian, hoping the security camera operator does not speak it. "The security camera just turned back on. Do not move quickly and keep your gun away."

Natasha's eyes widened in panic but she did not move and remained calm. "Do you have any ideas?" she said back to you in Russian. "We will most certainly be taken from this room if we remain here too long."

"I have an idea," you respond after a moment, turning very red as you think of it. "But you may not like it."

"I think that if it involves us not getting caught, then I will love it very much." Natasha replied. The two of you were still speaking Russian and it was beginning to make your brain hurt.

"Okay," you said uncertainly. "Because it involves you, me, and Zharkov's bed."

 


	3. Against the Pillows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of kisses in this chapter, so have fun! Smut to follow.

 "Are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?” Natasha whispered softly into your ear as she climbed onto the bed. You bit your lip hard.

“Zharkov is notorious for having prostitutes and escorts in his rooms,” you whisper back. “If we act like he hired us to wait in his room, the security won’t suspect anything.”

“We should probably get undressed then,” Natasha replied into your ear. “Not past the underwear, but we should strip down enough for security to believe that we could prostitutes. You know…”

You nodded and began to unzip your black jacket and pull it off. Natasha watched you, causing you to blush. “My underwear isn’t exactly sexy,” you whispered at her as she watched you discard your jacket and pull off your tank top. Natasha shrugged. 

“With your body, it won’t matter too much,” she whispered back. She looked at your plain black bra and smiled. “You look fine. Beautiful.” She unbuckled her belts and unzipped her black jumpsuit as you took off your pants, exposing embarrassingly plain black underwear. You swallowed hard as she discarded her outfit, exposing smooth and creamy skin and smoky gray underwear with little black lace details. You forced your eyes off of her body and met her gaze. 

“Those are cute,” you managed, feeling your heart thump hard in your chest. “Do you mind if I turn on a light? It may be suspicious if we wait in the dark.” Natasha nodded, and you stood, feeling exposed in your underwear, to flick on the bedside lamp. Mistake.

The soft lamplight illuminated Natasha’s curves perfectly and making miniature shadows between her inner thighs and cleavage. You could feel yourself getting wet at the thought of Natasha against you.

“If we’re supposed to be Zharkov’s prostitutes, we can probably wait for him without…you know,” Natasha whispered to you across the bed. “Having sex. Or pretending to.”

 “I… right. Yeah. Whatever you’re comfortable with,” you said, struggling to hide your disappointment. Natasha studied your expression.

 “You sound unhappy about that,” she said quietly.

 “We… uh, we might need to make plans,” you stuttered back. “It would look suspicious if we, uh, if we keep leaning over to whisper with each other. And we need to make plans to get out of here. Zharkov will be back here in less than an hour, and we need an out. We can’t stay here forever, and Zharkov couldn’t pay me enough to…” you trailed off with a shudder. “I don’t want him ever to touch me.”

 “Okay,” Natasha said quickly. She moved closer to you and pulled you over her so that you straddled her, your back to the camera. You turned an even darker shade of red. Natasha frowned at your embarrassment. “We’re just pretending,” she whispered in your ear. “We’re not doing anything. Pretend to kiss my neck.”

Trembling a little and praying that your underwear was thick enough not to be soaked through, you moved your lips so that they skimmed Natasha’s neck. “I have an out idea,” you whispered into her ear after a moment. Natasha looked at you sideways from under her lashes.

“What is it?” she whispered in your ear as you moved your lips to skim her shoulder.

“I have a knockout pill on my belt,” you whispered back. Your nose bumped against the smooth skin of Natasha’s earlobe, and you bie your lip again to keep yourself from groaning. “We fix Zharkov a drink when he comes back, saying he ordered us before he came back to the room to make him a drink and sleep with him. We put the pill in his drink, pretend to rouse him when he passes out, and then put on our clothes and leave. Piece of cake.”

“That could work,” Natasha mused into your ear. “I have no better plan in my mind.” She shifted her thighs under you to a more comfortable position, giving your sensitive spot friction against her skin. You muffle a groan.

“What was that?” Natasha asked in your ear as you struggle to remain composed despite the smoking hot woman underneath you.

“Hmm? Nothing, nothing,” you said hurriedly, blushing deeply. You could still feel your heart beating through your chest as you straddled Natasha. Natasha frowned at you again.

“Should I… should I move?” Natasha said. “If we’re done making plans, I mean.”

 “No,” you said, and immediately cover your mouth.

 “What do you mean?” Natasha said. “Do you want to sit on me all night?”

“Never mind, never mind, nevermindnevermind,” you stuttered madly, blisteringly aware that you were still on top of Natasha. “I, uh… I’ll get off of you. If you want me to.”

 Natasha regarded you for a moment and parted her full, pink-red lips, placing a hand on your back and pulling you down toward her. She placed a soft kiss on your lips. You made a surprised noise into the kiss, and Natasha pulled away quickly.

“I… sorry, sorry. Am I misreading the situation?” Natasha scanned your face anxiously. “If I am, then God, I’m sorry. You can get off me if you want to.”

You were still in shock from the feeling of Natasha’s soft lips on yours, but somehow your body kicked in. Leaning down, you kissed her hard, trying to map out her plush and sweet lips in your mind. She made a happy hum into your mouth as she began to kiss you back, nipping lightly on your lower lip as you deepened the kiss.

 Natasha’s tongue flicked over your lips begging entrance into your mouth; you let her in with a gasp as her hands ran feather-light over her body. Her tongue slipped into your mouth and began to explore, playfully tracing your teeth and running over the roof of your mouth in a way that causes a shiver to run through your spine.

Natasha’s fingers moved through your hair as you continued to kiss for what seemed like forever, pushing your flushed body against her. Shifting for better balance, you placed your hands on either side of Natasha’s head, nipping at her lips lightly as you moved. Natasha pulled her lips away from you as you moved, watching you move over her, her eyes running over your breasts hungrily.

 “Something wrong?” you ask quietly.

“I have quite the opposite of a problem,” Natasha admitted. “I want to do something more than kissing with you if that’s okay,” she murmured huskily into your ear, nipping at your earlobe for added measure.

 Looking into Natasha’s smoky eyes, you swallowed hard before answering.

“Hell yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you (God forbid) like my fan fiction, you can follow me at mylifeistheprogressbar.tumblr.com


	4. Against the Pillows, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start getting heated between you two, resulting in a bit of a binding situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING. I started a pretty hefty original fiction project that's been taking a bunch of time, but here's your update! Thanks to everyone who pressured me to update or I probably would have forgotten to!
> 
> I've been getting so much great feedback on this fic I decided to extend it for another chapter, which I'll try to update sooner than I did for this chapter.

You and Natasha sat there for a moment looking at each other after you spoke, taking each other in with slight smiles on your faces, before Natasha took your face into her hand and pulled you down to kiss her.

This kiss was sweeter, less urgent and yet somehow when she pulled her lips away to breathe, you felt even more desire than you had before. Natasha smiled.

 “How do you like it?” she growled below you after you had finished kissing her. You breathed in slowly and exhaled carefully after she spoke. Passing out on top of a sexy Russian spy was probably not going to be a good ending to this evening.

 “Do you want me to pin you down and fuck you until you’re begging for more and half of Russia can hear you? Or do you wanna make me your slave?”

“I… I want to beg,” you said finally, after deliberating for a moment, trying to quell the thoughts running through your head combined with the warm feeling of Natasha beneath you, slowly stroking your thighs in a way that should have been illegal because _oh God was that fucking good, oh Jesus don’t stop._

Natasha grinned at your response, as though you had gotten the answer right on a test. “Good choice,” she said in a low voice.

 Natasha pushed your thighs back slightly onto hers and sat up so that your chests nearly touched. She smiled and pressed her lips to your neck lightly, reaching behind you to undo your bra. Her lips moved, feather light, down to your neck and collarbone. You shivered at her touch and moaned slightly as Natasha moved her knee between your legs and moved her lips down to your breasts.

 “Aren’t you a damn goddess?” Natasha whispered against your skin, her breath ghosting over your nipples. You groaned slightly at the feelings of pleasure tugging at your chest.

You could feel yourself becoming unraveled in the face of Natasha, and _God, you wanted to be even more unraveled until you were pressed into the pillows screaming her name._

Natasha lowered her lips over your nipple, catching it lightly between her teeth and sucking it, her tongue slipping over the sensitive skin and sucking it lightly. You moaned probably louder than you should have.

 Natasha looked up and cocked her brow at you. “I’m uh… I’m sensitive.” You whispered breathlessly. “That feels… _God.”_

 Natasha interrupted your thought by catching your other nipple in her mouth and repeating her action while brushing your chest with her fingers. Her skin felt soft against yours, like your own personal piece of heaven.

Almost unconsciously, your hands came up to thread through Natasha’s dark red curls. She growled something against your skin and gave you a warning nip on your collarbone. Her teeth grazed against a sensitive spot on your skin and you shuddered slightly. Your hands dropped from her hair. 

“If there’s gonna be any hair tugging, it’s gonna be from me to you,” Natasha whispered in your ear. “I wouldn’t really be able to help it. Your hair is just _so_ luxurious.”

“Hmm,” you hummed into her ear as her hands came up to tug experimentally in your hair. Again, your arms came up slightly to brush against Natasha.

“Do I have to tie you up?” Natasha growled in your ear, biting your earlobe and moving her hips against you.

“Yeah,” you breathed. Your heart jumped in your chest. _God, Natasha really knew how to treat them, didn’t she?_

Natasha pushed you down slightly and reached over you to the bedside table. Her breasts brushed against your face as she did, and you whined from underneath her. She grinned.

“Now you’re just teasing,” you whimpered as Natasha rustled through a drawer. After a few more agonizing seconds of her chest moving ever so lightly above you to almost touch your lips, she pulled back triumphantly holding a silky strip of black cloth.

“How do you think Zharkov would react if he knew we had one of his finest silk ties and we were gonna wrinkle it up to play our little games?” Natasha asked.

Climbing over you to shift into a more dominant position, Natasha pushed your arms down roughly. Your breath caught in your throat and you sighed contentedly at the rough action.

“Answer me,” she teased, moving her lips over your neck to play at the soft spots just behind your ears.

“Nggh, he’d… he’d hate it. We’d owe him ten thousand rubles. But he’d be too dumbstruck by your beauty to do anything about it.”

“Aww. So _sweet_ of you.” Natasha purred as she grabbed your wrists to restrain you. “Still tying you up though.”

“Darn,” you gasped, trying to be sarcastic but sounding to needy to truly get the sentiment across. Natasha leaned forward and threaded the soft fabric around your wrists, securing it in a looped twist of the cloth.

“Too tight?” Natasha said, leaning back to get a look at her handiwork. She pushed you back against the soft sheets, smiling as she looked down at you.

 “No,” you said from below her, looking up at her hungrily. “ _Touch me, please.”_ You could feel warmth coiling through you as you looked at the beautiful redhead above you.

“Oh, I will.” Natasha grinned wickedly. “Just… be patient.”


	5. Against the Pillows, Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll probably be adding in length to this chapter, I just really wanted to update this so you wouldn't be left hanging! Check the chapter again later if you want to read the rest. I hope you like this piece of trash.

Natasha shifted her position over you to position herself more securely between your legs. You sighed as she moved, whimpering slightly from the loss of her slender fingers pressing into your hands as she had dipped her mouth against your neck, nipping and playing with the smooth skin of your neck.

“Shh,” Natasha whispered soothingly. Her fingers brushed the inside of your thigh from her position below you. You promptly shut your mouth as you realized what her intentions were. “It’s okay, let Mommy take care of you.”

You shuddered involuntarily at her words. _Natasha was somehow managing to hit each and every single one of your kinks, even the ones you had tried to hide from everyone for years._

Your train of thought was interrupted as Natasha licked gently at the inside of your thigh less than an inch away from your throbbing pussy.

“Nnnhh,” you groaned at the feeling, trying to formulate words in your brain. The bright sparks of white hot pleasure and pent up need stole any concentration of trying to formulate words in your brain. Subconsciously, your wrists tugged at the soft silk wrapped securely around them.

 “What was that?” Natasha asked teasingly, moving her tongue up your leg slightly, planting more feather-light kisses up to your hip.

“Mmh,” you gasped for words, bucking up your hips in a desperate grab for friction. “Natasha… God…” 

“I’m not a god,” she replied, still teasing. “Should I call in Thor for this?”

“No,” you gasped as she moved her lips away from you slightly. You took another shaky breath and let your eyes wander up her frame again, looking at the soft shadows across her hips and stomach, and the light lines between her breasts. “God, please stop—stop teasing me!” 

“Hmm, but you like it don’t you?” Natasha purred back. You let out a hard breath as she moved against you again, pressing a kiss down towards your throbbing pussy. You let out a shaky sigh as Natasha began to mouth lightly at the fabric of your underwear, which was soaked through from how aroused you were. 

“I…. I…” you gasped, unable to form words as she mouthed again, this time using a flick of her tongue that should have been illegal because _holy shit it felt like you almost couldn’t take it anymore because of how sensitive you were underneath her._

“Mmh, tell Mommy what you want.” Natasha slithered up your body, her hands coming up with her to ghost lightly down your sides. As she leaned in to nip your ear, she whispered into your ear in a deep, throaty voice that made you shudder. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me please!” You managed to gasp. It came out louder than you intended, and as you spoke, a moan interrupting you between words, you blushed fiercely and turned your head away in embarrassment. 

“Oh, you _are_ gorgeous,” Natasha breathed in response, nudging your chin so that she could look into your eyes. You averted them almost nervously. “I’m gonna make you cum so many times you’ll forget what we’re doing here in the first place.”

“Please Natasha, pleaseohgodpleasefuckme.” You knew that you were becoming garbled. You could feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes as your hips strained to move up. “I can’t take it, God please…” 

Natasha covered your mouth with a hungering kiss before roughly sucking at your jaw and moving her mouth down to the weak spot on your neck, nipping and biting harshly against your skin down to your collarbones. Your skin felt like it was on fire from the pleasure assaulting you. 

Her lips moved down your stomach quickly before her lips hit the waistband of your underwear. She glanced up at you and grinned in an almost predatory way, grabbing the elastic with her teeth and snapping harshly against your skin. You tried and failed to muffle a moan at the sharp sting. Natasha watched your reaction with interest as you sobbed wantonly into the quiet room.

“Interesting…” She muttered.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you (God forbid) like my fan fiction, you can follow me at mylifeistheprogressbar.tumblr.com
> 
> I'm working on multiple cosplay at the moment and school is just starting again, I've been a bit lazy about updating, sowwy.
> 
> Haikyuu!! sideblog: trashtrioheadcanons.tumblr.com  
> Instagram: daisyrightsactivist


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